“Can I explain?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“I think so. She had this sort of—iridescent—glowy thing. I couldn’t get through. She’s blocking me from getting in, somehow.

Like some kids proof their rooms against the boogeyman. And every light in her room was on, I swear. It was like she was terrified, or something.”

“All right. Suppose I believe you. What should we do about it?”

“I think we should pull Vagary out. He’s better at reading minds than me.”

“But he’s so expensive, Aislin. Can’t we just cross her off our dream list?”

“Hey!” it was her turn to shout. “Who was the one spouting all that self-righteousness about how the humans need us or they go mad—or die? It wasn’t me, that’s for sure.”

Wraith said, “Fine. This is beyond me; I’ve never heard anything like it before. We’ll pull out Vagary from retirement, but remember how temperamental he can get. He’s two steps away from being a poltergeist, I swear. And his pay comes for yours, since you’re so keen to do this. Fair?”

She looked a little rankled—pay docked again?—but she composed herself quickly. “Yes, sir.”

Chimer brought over a plate of something that looked like gloss or nail polish. He poked at it. “Hmm. I wonder what this is.”

“I don’t know. How much was it?”
“Five bucks.”

“Laundry detergent?”

“Ha, ha. We all know you were the one who stopped us from tieing.”

“Not my fault, for once. The kid had some kind of force field.”

“Vagary?”

“Yep.”

“Good luck.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t mention it. This does smell like laundry detergent. . .” he walked away.

That night, Aislin met Vagary at the house. “Zees is ze dump?”
“Yes, sir.”

“Vell. Show me ze child.”

When he saw the glowing substance, he muttered. “I’ve seen zees before, once. It’s—“

“She’s—“

“Vhatever. She’s scared of something—her mother told her, ‘There’s no such zings as monsters,’ and of course zere are. She’s so tightened up—in mind and body—zat nothing can get through it. You’ll need to convince it—“

“Her—“

“Vhatever! Zat it’s safe.”

“How do I do that?”

“Zimple.” He pulled out his amplifier; Aislin never used one because remembering the future was often frowned upon; thus the weaker the dream the better. Vagary rested it just an inch above the glowing substance. “Zon—two—three—“

It exploded in colors. “Quickly, stupid! Get in zere!”

“What?”

“Get in zere!” But it was too late. They reported their failure to Wraith, who was not pleased.

“You get one more try, Aislin. After that, to hell with you.”

But there was one thing that Wraith had neglected. The child hadn’t dreamt in three days. She was growing sick and feverish; her mother was very concerned. That night, Aislin went alone with an Amplifier.

She touched Danielle’s head. “No need to be afraid,” and she set the Amplifier switch to on. She gave the girl a good dream: one of healing and peace. When she was done, she grabbed the Amplifier, but accidentally slipped—

She made a noise, and Danielle sat bolt upright in bed. Ah, well. I’m for sure fired now, Aislin thought.

“Danielle? Did I hear something?” Her mother appeared, framed by light in the doorway.

“Nothing,” the girl said, rubbing her eyes to remove the night’s grit. She was smiling prettily, and the feverish gleam had left her eyes. “It was just a dream.”